[ this dream unnerves him, the way others have been handled by him. the mass-dreaming that the displaced had experienced prior to lan wangji's arrival had been a joyous experience for him, one where his skills relating to lucid dreaming and the practiced self-control over his consciousness and sub-consciousness had allowed him to flit and dance across the landscapes of others minds without sharing anything of his own in exchange. not without willing it, as he had with cain - bleeding and dying and scared in the cold.

the idea of losing control, of dreaming without sense or cohesion or command that he could exert over himself has affected him far more than he thought it would. he remembers his past in patchwork, looking to lan wangji for confirmation of the names of those he's killed against those he wasn't responsible for. knowing that by the end of all things, he had been insane and out of control - so, the dream scares him. chenqing, dark and beautiful in his hands, does not scare him. it is his beautiful, loyal weapon; he had saved suibian from such a dark fate.]

If our dreaming on such a mass scale changed the world even slightly, I doubt believe I'm the only one. I have so many questions about it, how it happened, if it can be replicated, controlled, directed. We could do it, you and I. We've been trained, even if Mo Xuanyu was... more inexperienced in many ways.

[ slowly, he curls a hand back to his chest, pressing chenqing down the line of his sternum. secure, protected.

when he looks up next, the haunted sort of dark that had crept in around the pretty, violet-grey of his eyes has faded a little. replaced by a spark, as he tips back along the rail a little, one foot hooked into place to keep himself from falling down the center, down to the ground floor. his free hand reaches out, offered to lan wangji. ]

I had a bad dream, Lan Zhan. Aren't you supposed to hold someone after such a fright?